Proud Yet Humble
by pennylayne
Summary: Sequel to Strong Men Crumble. Blink returns to New York after ten years, and his life is drastically different... he's expecting nothing but discovers he may have to prove himself to the one person he thought he'd never see again.
1. Chapter 1

The sun had all but disappeared, bathing the cold, wet streets of New York City in a bleak, pathetic light that one would more readily associate with the early evening that with it being barely past noon. Snow fell silently on the gloomy December day, gathering in slick, disgusting piles and making the cobblestone streets appear even dirtier than they already were.

A young man stood on Duane Street, looking entirely out of place with his streaky blond hair and well-established tan uncharacteristic of these parts in this season. The people who passed him stared, they didn't know him, didn't recognize him, but he knew them almost as well as he knew these streets.

Directly across from the place where he stood was a sad, dilapidated building where mold grew visibly on the windows that weren't already broken and haphazardly papered. A poorly painted sign hung above the door, barely resisting the wind, bearing three simple words: _Newsboys Lodging House._

The man sighed as he stared, shaking his head. He'd never looked at this building from this point of view, never saw it as sad or run down as it was now. He'd always seen it as warm and inviting despite its loosening brick and drafty rooms. But, somewhere far in the back of his mind, he still saw the same thing he saw every day of his life when he was young: home.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The lobby provided shelter from the wind and snow but little else; it was doubtful that there was even the slightest change in temperature inside from out, even with the fire going in the tiny fireplace. Little had changed – the same beat-up chairs and threadbare rugs rested by the large window, looking as if they'd been there since the beginning of time. Even the paint and wallpaper, faded and peeling though they were, were the same. It was actually kind of charming.

"Help you, mister?" A man of about thirty popped up behind the counter, looking well-weathered but kind.

"Um, yeah. Kloppmann still run this place?" The blond man asked, looking around a little more.

The man behind the counter clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Naw, he ain't around no more. Died 'bout four, five years back... consumption." He shrugged sadly and rubbed at a spot on the counter. "Hey, how'd you know Kloppmann? You don't look like you're from around here."

"I used to be," the blond said. "I lived here for years when I was a kid. Left 'bout ten years back, though, I guess it's been."

"No kiddin'. Man, I used to run this place like I was the damn king. You look kinda familiar, come to think of it. What'd they call you?"

"Name's Zach Erickson, but the fellas here all called me Blink. Kid Blink."

The man behind the counter laughed out loud. "Shoulda known by the patch." He hopped over the counter, grinning from ear to ear. "Now, I know you remember the mighty Jack Kelly."

"You gotta be kiddin' me. Cowboy gave up Santa Fe and cares for the newsies now."

Jack Kelly flashed him another grin. "Yeah, well, couldn't think of nothin' better to do, an' Kloppmann asked me to see over this sorry place." He looked around the tiny room, shrugging. "As you can clearly see, I done a damn fine job."

Kid Blink laughed. "Looks just the same as it did when I left."

"Yeah, where'd you go, anyhow? We never heard a word from you after you left."

Blink shrugged with a sad kind of smile. "Texas."

"Well, you look like Texas is at least treatin' you pretty good." Jack looked over his old friend, taking in the odd sight: the expensive coat, warm, fitted knickers, shoes free of wholes... nothing like a newsboy would ever hope to own. "Or you got real good at stealin'."

"You wouldn't believe it," Blink said, laughing. "But I worked my rear off for a couple'a years an' managed to save up enough to buy me some land... an' one day I was diggin' a well and I struck oil."

"So you're one o' them high-rollers now," Jack said with his legendary smirk on his face, nodding.

"I guess you could say that."

"Well, what the hell're you doing back in New York?"

Blink smiled, shrugging. "Doin' some business with a shipping company up here... plus I missed it here, so I thought I'd take a little trip."

"Good Lord, you can afford to take the train to New York for the hell of it. I hate you." Jack punched him lightly in the shoulder.

"Sorry, ain't my fault." Blink laughed and looked at the beaten-up grandfather clock standing against the wall, where it had been probably about as long as the chairs had. "Well... I just wanted to take a look at the place, see it was still standing an' all, but I gotta get going."

"Yeah." Jack nodded. "Hey, how long you here for?"

"Couple more weeks, I guess."

"Well, don't be a stranger, then."

"I won't." Blink headed for the door, then stopped. "Hey, Jack?" He turned to face his friend, pulling a wad of bills from his coat pocket. "Fix this place up. Start with the windows. It's too damn cold for these boys to be sleepin' in a room with the windows broken like that."

Jack's eyebrows shot up in bewilderment. The rich never cared about lowly newsboys. "Thanks, Blink."

Blink nodded and stepped out the door. Smiling a sad sort of smile, he tromped through the snow-covered streets of his old battle ground toward the inn where a fire and something warm to drink awaited him.


	2. Chapter 2

Blink caught a familiar sound as he neared the inn – a rough, exhausted voice calling out a clever, albeit obviously fabricated, headline. He looked around for the source of the voice, but he reached the inn before he found the elusive newsboy.

"Mister Erickson, did you have a nice walk?" The innkeeper's daughter smiled at him from the front desk. Blink smiled back and nodded in reply. "Can I get you anything while you're down here? Something to warm you up?" She gave him her late-teen aged "come-hither" smile, one he seemed to be getting from a lot of unmarried girls since he started making money.

"Um, some coffee, or tea, whichever you've got ready." He leaned against the desk as the girl ducked into the kitchen, and gave her one of his winning smiles as she returned. "Thank you."

"It's nothing, Mister Erickson." She blushed, setting the cup of coffee on the desk in front of him. "Milk, sugar?"

"No, thanks, Lilly." He picked up the cup and sipped, closing his eyes (or eye, if you will) for a moment in gratitude for the warmth.

"Cold outside, isn't it?"

Blink nodded. "Yeah. I forgot how cold it gets up here this time of year." He laughed a little. "There's sun practically all year round down in Texas, and I guess that maybe I got a little too used to it."

Lilly giggled in the most over-accentuated, feminine way possible, biting her lower lip as Blink finished his coffee and handed her the cup. "Can I get you anything else, Mister Erickson?"

"No, thanks."

"Are you sure? We have some bread and butter in the back, are you hungry?"

"That's okay, Lilly, thanks." He smiled at her and turned to head up the stairs. "I'll probably see you later."

"Oh. Well, alright. You have yourself a nice afternoon, Mister Erickson." She watched Blink go up the stairs, leaning against the desk and sighing when he disappeared from sight. She wasn't nearly as quiet as she thought, though, because Blink was still chuckling to himself as he walked into his room.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Blink had a dinner invitation to Michael Smith's house. Smith owned and operated the Smith Shipping Company thanks to his late father's will, and he was more than a little interested in making Blink his oil supplier. Blink was just as eager as Smith was to woo him into a business relationship.

He knocked on the door of Smith's overly large and disgustingly impressive house, wiping his feet on the mat. The door was opened by Michael himself, who smiled in welcome.

"You must be Zacharias Erickson." Blink nodded and extended his hand. Michael looked him up and down as they shook hands. "You're a lot younger than I thought you'd be. I was expecting an old, fat cowboy."

Blink laughed. "Funny, sometimes I expect to see the same thing when I look in the mirror."

Michael smirked. "Well, you're not from Texas, are you?" He stepped aside to let Blink into the house.

As he entered, Blink shrugged. "No. Manhattan born and bred." In the ten years since he'd left New York, his accent still hadn't left him.

"Ah. Well, welcome home, then."

"Thanks."

"You can give your hat and coat to Liza here, she'll hang them up for you." Michael gestured to the maid, who smiled silently.

"Oh, alright." Blink shrugged out of his coat and pulled his hat off his head, handing them to the maid and smoothing his hair down. Michael then led him into the sitting room.

There were two other men and a woman in the sitting room, and they all looked up as Blink followed Michael in. The woman stared at Blink for a moment, then looked away when he noticed.

"Everyone, this is Zacharias Erickson. He owns Erickson Oil," Michael said with a smile.

The woman dropped her cup of tea with a gasp at the mention of Blink's name. Michael chuckled a little as the woman apologized and the maid rushed to clean up the mess.

"Zacharias, this is Jonas Ingraham, my right-hand man, and this is Fred Baker, my accountant. And that clumsy, but nonetheless lovely lady over there is my fiance, Evelyn Pulitzer."


	3. Chapter 3

Blink went to bed that night much wealthier than he was when he woke up, but nowhere near as happy. The one person he'd thought he'd pushed out of his life entirely was back, and yet again engaged to some rich, brainless fool.

Returning to New York was nothing like he thought it would be.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Blink opened his eyes in the morning to a pounding in his head. As he gradually woke up more, he realized the pounding was not in his head but at the door.

"Just a minute," he called out gruffly, rolling out of bed and pulling on his pants. He was buttoning his shirt as he opened the door and was met by a sudden burst of white fur and brown hair.

"What are you _doing_ here?" The ball of fur shouted at him as a hand hit him forcefully in the chest – for such a small hand, it sure packed a punch.

"I... what?" He caught his breath and grabbed the yelling, thrashing fur coat by the shoulders and looked into familiar, whiskey-colored eyes that burned not unlike the liquor.

"You left! You were gone! You left and you were a stupid boy with no money and I had a normal life and things were fine and _what are you doing here_?"

Blink dragged a hand through his hair and sighed, looking into the face he'd secretly longed to see for the past ten years. "Business," he said coldly.

"You don't _have_ business, you're a newsboy!" Evelyn glared at him, shaking her head. "I spent ten years wanting you to come back, waiting for you to show up on my doorstep and tell me you were just kidding. But now you're here, and I want nothing more than for you to leave."

"Well, it's no stroll in the park for me to see you, neither, Evie."

"Don't call me that." Evelyn covered her face with her hands, sighing. "Where did you go, Blink?"

"Like you said, I left. I was gone." He looked around the room, cocking an eyebrow. "What do you want, Evelyn?"

"I want..." She bit her lower lip, looking down at the floor. "I don't know what I want."

"So nothing's new in your life, then." When Evelyn looked up at him, he felt his heart sink a little. "You, um... you wanna sit down or somethin'?"

Evelyn nodded and he moved his suitcase off of a chair. "Here." Evelyn sat, looking around the room.

"So, I... I suppose you're doing fairly well for yourself, then."

"Yeah, not too shabby, I guess." He shrugged. "So, um... what happened to being Evelyn Post?"

Evelyn looked at him, an eyebrow slightly raised. "William, strangely enough, was killed a few months after we got married. The police found him in an alley, badly beaten. They figure it was probably a robbery gone bad." She looked at him, almost through him. "I carried his name for a while before I met Michael, and then I gave up on it and went back to my maiden name, seeing as I hadn't been married that long, anyway."

"Why'd you change it?"

"It was time to let William go."

Blink smirked. "Or Michael was your grandfather's new pet and no one wants a widow." He shrugged, sitting down on the bed. "Sorry to hear about William, though."

"I'll bet you are." Evelyn gave him a cold stare. She sighed and shook her head. "At any rate, how long are you expecting to be here?"

"Oh, I don't know. What with setting up business and deciding if and when I want to go back to Texas, a couple more weeks, I guess."

Evelyn groaned. "Why do I feel like I'm being punished?"

Blink smirked at her. "You done anything lately worth punishing?"

Her eyes met his. "Have you?"

Blink felt chills as Evelyn stared him down. He tried to look anywhere but at her face, but he always ended up looking right back into her eyes. "Evie, I think it's time for you to go."

"Fine." Evie stood, smoothing her coat. She said goodbye as Blink let her out and as he closed the door, he stood, bewildered. He rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the day-old stubble on his chin, and made a mental note to shave after he crawled back into bed and slept for about two more days.

He unbuttoned his shirt and cast it back over the chair, stretching and getting ready to finish undressing so he could go back to sleep, when the door flung open again. Evie kicked the door shut, shedding her coat and practically tackling Blink to the bed. He made a small noise of surprise and started to protest, but as she continued to kiss him, he gave in and actually found himself wrapping his arms around her.

After a few minutes, Evie pulled away, panting as she laid on his chest. "We shouldn't be doing this."

Blink laid his head back on the mattress, trying to catch his breath. "No, we shouldn't. We shouldn't have been all the other times, either."

Evie actually laughed, burying her head into the crook of his neck. "Blink," she murmured, placing her hand on his bare chest and sighing. "You have no idea how much I missed you."

"Likewise," he said, closing his unpatched eye.

There was a silence for a few minutes before Evie lifted her head. "I don't hate you, Blink."

He sighed, opening his eye again and examining her face. "I don't hate you, either, Evie."

Their lips met again, and before either of them knew what was happening, their positions were reversed to one far more familiar, with Blink's pants undone and Evie's skirt high up on her hips. Blink pushed as he did when they were teenagers, and for those first few moments, it felt every bit the same, as if they were back on the rooftop of the Duane Street Lodging House.

It lasted much longer than it did ten years before, but they still soon found themselves back in the bed of the inn, breathless and feeling more than a little dirty. As Blink rolled to the side, Evie sighed and straightened herself out.

"Well... I really should get going this time," she said, getting up from the bed and retrieving her coat from the floor.

"Yeah, you probably should." Blink watched her, torn between feeling satisfied and feeling angry with himself. They said goodbye again and she was gone, leaving Blink alone in the bed to try and figure out what'd he'd just done.

He sighed and pulled the covers over his head, prepared for a long nap.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Well, hello, Mister Erickson," Lilly said from the front desk as Blink walked down the stairs into the lobby.

"Afternoon, Lilly," he answered with a yawn.

"Did you have a nice visit with your lady friend this morning?" She cocked an eyebrow at him, her lips pursed.

"Sorry?"

"You know, we don't really allow that here. You didn't know, so I won't tell my father. Just don't let it happen again, Mister Erickson." She leaned forward on the desk, propping herself on her elbows. "But you may want to think about how thick the walls are here."

Blink stared at her, thrown off both by the fact that he was being scolded by a seventeen-year-old girl and by the fact that she had heard him and was blunt enough to confront him. It was entirely uncharacteristic of her, of women in general. "I... my apologies, Lilly."

Lilly just stared at him, silent for a few minutes, before she opened her mouth. "She didn't look like any streetwalker I've ever seen."

Blink's jaw dropped. "I... she... no, she's not a streetwalker," he stammered. "She's not... anything like that." He sighed, adjusting his hat nervously. "I'm going out. Um... I'll see you later, Lilly."


	4. Chapter 4

The streets of Manhattan were busy despite the unrelenting snow and bitter wind. The marketplace was packed, and Blink smiled a little to himself as he made his way through the bustling sea of people. As much as he loved his relatively quiet existence in the Texas sun, he knew that New York City was his heart and soul. He felt good when he walked through these streets – encompassed by tall buildings and petty thieves, he felt so much more at home than he did surrounded by grass and oil and cattle. God, he _hated_ cattle.

Blink pulled his coat tighter around himself, sighing out in a large cloud of steam in front of him. The clamor of voices around him made it nearly impossible to hear anything and he very nearly ran right over a small boy, pale and thin, waving a newspaper and yelling in a voice that was so much bigger than his body. He looked up at Blink, tired eyes examining him, judging him, and, seemingly, knowing him. Knowing what he used to be; that they weren't all that difference despite the money weighing down Blink's pockets.

"Care ta buy a pape, mistah? It's me last one," the boy said, trying (and failing) to hide his shivering.

"Yeah," Blink said, pulling two dimes out of his pocket. As he exchanged them for the newspaper and a puzzled look from the boy, he said, "Buy a hot meal for yourself and a friend. You look like you need it."

He heard a shouted "Thanks, mistah!" as he pushed his way through the crowd. Smiling, he continued on his stroll.

--

Blink had a meeting with Michael Smith that afternoon to go over the finishing touches for their business plan. As he walked into Smith's office, he found he suddenly couldn't look him in the eye.

"So how's your day going? Not too cold for you, I hope," Smith said cheerfully as he sat down behind his desk. Blink shook his head and sat as well. "Okay, well, let's get started."

Smith talked forever. He seemed to know more about what he was doing than Blink did, so Blink just stayed silent, nodding in the appropriate places. He'd found over the last few years that he sold more oil when he did that, anyway. He wasn't sure why... maybe it had something to do with the fact that people enjoy talking more than they do listening.

"You've been awfully quiet, Mister Erickson," Smith said when he was finally done presenting the business plan. "Is everything all right?"

_Yeah, except for the fact that I slept with your fiancé this morning_. Blink nodded. "Just tired, I s'pose. Didn't sleep much last night."

"Oh. That's unfortunate. Well, if everything's to your liking, I think we're done here. You can go, if you'd like, maybe head back to your inn and get some rest." He smiled.

"Great. Yeah, everything looks pretty good to me, I think." Blink rose and shook Smith's hand. "Thanks. And I'll be here in New York for a couple more weeks, I think, so you can get a hold of me, y'know, in case anything comes up."

"I'll do that. Thanks again, Mister Erickson."

"Yeah." Blink walked out, nearly running into Evelyn as he stared at his feet. She gave him a secret little smile as she passed him, and he stood, staring, for a few moments before heading back to the inn.

--

"So, you enjoyin' New York again?" Jack sat across from Blink at Tibby's, their old restaurant of choice.

"For the most part," Blink shrugged, taking a bite of cole slaw. "I didn't know how much I missed it until I got here."

Jack nodded. "Hell, I'd miss it and this place makes me sick."

Blink laughed a little, nodding. "Yeah... I seen some things, though... makes me remember why I left."

"Yeah? Like what?" Jack washed down a huge mouthful of food with a glass of water.

"Well... you remember that, uh, that girl I used to keep company with 'fore I left? Evie?"

"Yeah." Jack nodded, then looked up abruptly. "Shit, Blink. You didn't."

Blink sighed. "Yeah, I did." When Jack only stared at him, wide-eyed, Blink shook his head. "I don't even know how it happened."

"Didn't you learn a damn thing last time?"

"You'd think I would've." Blink ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "She's engaged to another rich, brainless fool."

"You forget that you're a rich, brainless fool now, too," Jack said with a smirk.

Blink smiled a little. "Hey. I ain't brainless." He shrugged. "But this guy owns the shipping company I'm workin' with, an' she was at the house when I went for dinner last night. Then she came to my room this mornin', y'know, to yell at me, which she did a _lot_ of, an' then..."

Jack wiggled his eyebrows. "Then?"

"Well, a gentleman doesn't talk about these kinds of things." Blink sipped at his water, smirking at Jack over the rim of the glass.

"Blink, you may be a rich son of a bitch now, but you ain't a gentleman, no matter which way you look at it."

"You still ain't gettin' details," Blink said, grinning. "Anyhow, it was a mistake and it won't happen again."

"Funny... seems to me like you've said that a few times before."

"Shut up, Jack."


	5. Chapter 5

"So I've been thinking about a date, since Evelyn and I haven't set one yet, and I thought perhaps mid-April would work well for the wedding; things are slow with the company around then and so we'll have time to take a trip afterwards. Not a very long one, of course, I can't be away from my office for more than a couple of weeks at the most, but we'll at least be able to get away for a little while. It'll be a little warmer then, but not too warm, and since it's right around Easter, we won't have to worry much about decorations since the church will already be done up for the most part. Though that does only give us four months, so you'll have to see about a dress as soon as possible." Michael Smith patted at his lips with his napkin, looking with a smile across the dinner table first at Evelyn and then at her mother.

Corinne Pulitzer nodded. "I already have a couturier in mind for the dress, and we have a bridal party lined up. All we need now is a definite date and we'll be set."

Evelyn's father, Patrick, cleared his throat. "Well, I know you and I are planning to leave for Europe again in April. We decided on, what, the twenty-first?"

Corinne nodded. "That sounds about right."

"So anytime before that would be just fine."

"Alright, well, how about the fourteenth? That gives you a week between events to rest and gather yourselves together." Michael smiled at Patrick, as always in hopes of impressing him.

"That sounds fine." Patrick nodded, and all eyes turned to Evelyn.

"Does that work for you, darling?" Michael asked.

Evelyn nodded and took a long drink of her wine.

"Do you have anything you'd like to add to this, Evelyn?" Corinne patted her daughter's hand lightly, giving her a supportive smile.

"No, it seems to me that you've all got this fairly well under control." Evelyn finished her wine and stood, wavering a little as she did so. "But I don't feel very well all of a sudden, so if you'll excuse me..."

She made her way, tipsy though she was, out of the dining room and headed up the stairs to her bedroom, collapsing onto the old four-poster bed with a heavy sigh. Just a few short days ago, she had been terribly excited at the prospect of her wedding, but now she felt nothing but irritation and a sense of impending doom whenever she thought about it. Those particular feelings seemed all too familiar.

Why was this happening to her again? Why couldn't her life just be normal, why couldn't she just be _happy_? Why did Blink keep popping up in her life?

More importantly... what was it about that man that always turned her inside out? There wasn't anything particularly special about him. Yes, he was impossibly good-looking, but he was missing an eye. He was almost painfully uneducated, and though he could practically swim in the money he had now, he had been poorer than dirt when Evelyn had met him.

Everything about him drove Evelyn positively crazy. The way his accent seemed to have faded but slipped back whenever he got excited or angry, and the way he still couldn't pronounce anything correctly. The way he called her Evie, even though she'd specifically told him _not_ to do so, just because it got her riled up. The way his whole face seemed to light up when he smiled. The way he moaned ever so quietly in her ear when they made love, or whatever it was that they did.

That, especially, drove her up the wall.

But in _such_ a good way.


End file.
